100 scenes
by persephassax
Summary: AU. a series of vignettes featuring Naminé and Larxene. While the situations and the world I've set them in is consistent all throughout, the stories are all stand-alone. Larminé. L/N.
1. OTP

001. **OTP**

"What the fuck is an OTP?" the blond's voice was loud, and clearly annoyed.

"One True Pairing," the other replied.

"How the fuck do you know that?"

"I had to practically live with Kairi for years," big blue eyes turned to the older girl.

"I still don't get what it means," came the reply, less annoyed this time, its timbre back to its usual simmering anger.

"In fandom, its the 'pairing' you support above all the others," the explanation held a bored, unhappy quality.

"So... what's yours?"

A smirk spread across the younger girl's lips, a most disturbing expression across her usually placid face.

"Its a close one between CLC and AR," she cackled, and sobering up some she said almost wistfully, "but...It might just be L/N."

Before her companion could ask what she meant, she got up and left the room, leaving an intrigued, and very solid silence behind.

* * *

Author Note: Honestly, I don't like this one very much. But I figured I'd just work through the list, stupidity of the prompts aside. (Besides, its good to write outside of one's comfort zone... or so they tell me.) I promise the next one will be better. c: Anyway, hope you all enjoy these, and tell me what you think!


	2. COUPLES

002. **Couple**

They were _everywhere_. She scowled. This was not how she wanted to spend her free week. She finally had a break from papers, and research and professors' expectations, just to have it ruined like this? Her frown turned down further. This was detestable. They were everywhere giggling, and blushing, and holding hands, and UGH! Another walked into the bookstore where she worked, and her already miserable mood plummeted, of course, she wouldn't just have to watch them through the window they'd have to come and prance around in front of her.

It was early February, their "special holiday" hadn't even happened yet; why were they acting up like this? She relaxed slightly as they made their way towards the café instead of towards the bookshelves.

Her shift was nearly over, it was just a little after three, when a solitary figure walked through the door. She welcomed the sight, and was slightly disappointed that the dark coat remained on. When the hat came off she saw it was the pretty little blond girl that often frequented the bookstore. She came up to the register with a paperback she'd been eyeing last time, and exact change. She was gone by the time Larxene had started unfolding the bills to find a red slip of paper.

_'Call me? 320-5738.'_

She smiled and waved as a couple left the café.

* * *

Author Note: (SECRET: I've written up to #11 already... So they'll get posted pretty quick.) Also, I wrote #1-10 a while ago, and ditched them for a while, but I'm back, and writing again. So I'm aiming to finish it, at the very least. Don't mind old Lark, she's not bitter, really! Hope you enjoyed. (Leave me a note telling me what you thought! Even if you hate it, bonus points if you can tell me why.) Have a nice day!


	3. CRY

003. **Cry**

Larxene stood at the altar, next to her pink-haired friend. She wore an elegant, if low-cut, black dress. Her thin-heeled, pointy toed black boots help her cut an even more impressive figure. She smirked as her friend continued to fidget. She tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around, looking at her with eyebrows scrunched in nervousness.

"I don't think Vexen would appreciate your spewing all over his suit. Relax, it's what you want isn't it?"

He smiled and nodded.

"Then think about that. I don't see what you're getting so worked up over."

The organ started playing and, from the door of the church, came the blond scientist, looking sharp in his black suit, black shirt, and green tie. He had a purple water lily in his buttonhole. He had his long hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. His face was free of its usual frown, and a light smile played on his lips.

When he reached the alter Marluxia grasped his hand and they held on tight through out the entire service.

"That was a nice, conventional wedding, not exactly what I expected of them, you know?" Naminé commented conversationally, as she came to stand next to Larxene as they watched the happy couple run down the aisle. The older girl didn't reply, and she looked up at her. She was biting her lips, and her eyebrows were drawn together. Most shockingly, her eyes were wet.

"Lark, why?"

"Allergic to his stupid perfume..." came the half-choking reply. Naminé just smiled softly, and took her hand, squeezing it tight.

* * *

Author Note: Poor Lark, she's such a bleeding heart, somewhere... deep, deep inside... maybe. P: Yea yea, you're all going to have to deal with Marluxia/Vexen from me. I don't want to hear it. (Well, actually, I'm so desperate for feedback that, yes, yes I do want to hear it. I'm a pathetic comment-starved little writer. Pity me?) Ach, I'm a fan of lilies, despite their being the "flower of death" (I'm half-hoping those are only the white ones...) Anyway. If you pump "purple water lily" through google images, you can see what they look like. (They really are pretty.)


	4. LAUGH

004. **Laugh**

If you tell a funny story, Naminé will smile, almost indulgently. She's happy for you. If you tell her a joke she'll look very amused. When she gets an idea in her head to do something she'll smirk, and it looks surprisingly dangerous. When she takes Larxene's hand and drags her, running through an open field, or down the street, she'll laugh, reveling in their hands clasped together.

At an appropriately sadistic joke, Larxene will cackle. When someone whispers something amusingly dirty in her ear about what so-and-so _really_ did last night, she'll smirk. But sometimes, when Naminé wraps herself around her, and refuses to let go, or starts kissing her _just because_ she'll start laughing and not be able to stop.

* * *

Author Note: Here's a short one for you. Neither really strikes me as the kind to really _laugh_, so this is what you get. Also, I'm firmly of the belief that people pick up the habits of those around them, so Naminé has developed an edge to her from all her time spent with Lark and the rest of the gang. (The number of habits/quirks/etc that I've picked up from my friends... But you don't care about that. B: ) As always, tell me what you thought! Even if it was: "Banana mushroom 32 sandwich purple!"


	5. ANGER

005. **Anger**

When Naminé storms into the room everyone stiffens. Her mouth is pulled into a ferocious line, and her eyes are blazing. Unconsciously a few of them pull away from her, but her attention is focused solely on the girl lying in the bed. She's got bandages going up and down her arms, and several broken ribs.

"You stupid, unthinking bitch!" Naminé practically screams. No one has ever heard her swear. Her words are generally powerful enough not to need expletives, but hearing her spit them like that makes her speech frightening.

"You could have been killed!"

The girl in the bed smirks at the statement.

"Yea, but it was fun!"

"Ugh!" the short blond strides purposefully towards the bed, and anyone in the way scuttles to the side. When she's standing next to the invalid blond she slaps her hard across the face.

"I was so worried," she hugs her carefully, gently, tears sliding down her face.

"I know. I'm sorry," the admission is quiet and the first time any of them have ever heard her say the words.

* * *

Author Note: ...And thus the role of the "T" rating becomes clear! Mm... I suppose I have an unforgivable potty mouth. (I'm a sailor, I've had practice cursing a blue streak.) Lark... Why are you making Nam' worry? Its not nice! Anyway. Drop me one, tell me what you thought & have an excellent morning/afternoon/evening/night.


	6. CONTROL

006. **Control**

Larxene doesn't like the way with a tilt of her head and beseeching look Naminé can even get her into that lacy dress that she didn't even want to wear. She doesn't like how with a few well placed touches and a moan, Naminé will have dragged her into bed. She doesn't like how when Naminé has tears making her eyes swim, making them look big and blue and shiny, she can feel her heart break a thousand times. She doesn't like the power the girl has over her.

Larxene doesn't like how when Naminé comes out of the shower, towel wrapped tightly around her torso, it takes her all to remain sitting in her chair, with her fingers twitching on the keyboard. She doesn't like how when the morning light catches the younger girl's pale cheek she can't help but bring her lips to that skin. She doesn't like that when someone else even looks at the girl she wants to rip their eyes out that they may never look at her again. She doesn't like how one little girl can make her lose control.

* * *

Author Note: Another I'm not _excruciatingly_ fond of... But whatever. I wanted to do something unconventional with "Control" but I'm pretty sure I failed really really badly. So, tell me if you think I succeeded, or if you agree that I failed. And as usual, have a lovely day.


	7. TROUBLE

007. **Trouble**

Larxene had no measure of troubles. She had two best friends pining after vaguely unattainable blonds. She had bad customer relation skills. She had a 50 page paper due in two weeks and didn't even have an outline yet. She had a useless major, and no plan for her future. She had a dinner to plan and no ideas on how to do it. And to top it all off, she couldn't play the guitar either.

She scowled into her cup of coffee. This day had started out bad. Her alarm clock decided that it wouldn't go off at the right time, so she was late for the class she taught on Wednesday morning, only to get there and realize that she had the week off. The rest of the day she was behind, to meet with her dissertation advisor, to get to work, to go pick up her cousin from the airport.

It continued in this vein until Saturday when she had the day-long shift at the bookstore.

Demyx stood at the counter, chatting away at her about how wonderful school was and how wonderful his boyfriend was, and how wonderful it was here, and how wonderful his band was and how _bloody fucking_ wonderful everything was, and she was resisting the urge to kill him. She told herself it would scare away the customers and ruin any brownie points she'd been gaining with her boss for her increased effort in not disturbing potential regulars so thoroughly they never returned.

Then in came one of the regulars that hadn't been scared off by Larxene's scary faces, and in with him came two completely different kinds of trouble. It was the short blond who came in on Saturdays and Wednesday evenings. He came in for textbooks, required reading books, and the occasional paperback. He routinely bought romance novels. The last fact entertained Larxene, but she did not fail to notice that the ones he chose were always the ones that could pass as actual literature.

He walked side by side with a tall lanky redhead and behind them trailed a small, pretty, pale, blond girl. The redhead turned to look towards the counter with a smirk and stopped in his tracks, and the girl crashed into him.

"Your scary cashier is LARXENE?!" he practically yelped. "And Demyx! What the hell are you doing here?!" His two blond companions turned to look at him with raised eyebrows.

Demyx just waved at him cheerfully. Larxene didn't say anything, she shivered, and pulled the weathered paperback sitting on the counter to her, and buried her nose in it.

Eventually, introductions and explanations had been made, Larxene ignoring all of them. Demyx, the blond boy, and Axel wandered off together into the shelves.

"Hey," came a soft voice. Larxene hazarded a look up. It was the pretty blond.

"I'm Naminé," she said, in a quiet voice. Larxene just gulped slightly. "When you're shifts over, wanna go get some dinner? I think the boys'll occupy themselves effectively without us."

Larxene narrowed her eyes in thought.

"Yea, I think I could roll with that," she smirked. "It'll save me the trouble of cooking."

* * *

Author Note: Wow, I forget how long that one got. Axel, you're making an ass out of yourself... again. A little comic relief was hiding in this one, I hope that worked out okay. As I can no longer remember what the dinner-planning was for, I'm pretty sure, going out to dinner will screw that up, and leave whoever she was going to feed going hungry. (Its an aptly Larxene-like thing to do, so we'll consider it safe to assume.) I'd love to know what you think, as always.


	8. COPS

008. **Cops**

Naminé avoided thinking about the fact that she was now on a first name basis with most of the cops in her neighborhood. She ignored exactly how many weekends she spent sitting in the police station. She didn't get in trouble.

"Finally, they let me go!" came a quick voice. Naminé opened her eyes. The semi-blurred figure of a young woman with her hands on her hips stood in front of her.

"So we can go now!" Naminé just blinked a few times.

"I think I'll just stay here," she croaked.

"Come on, baby, I'm sure the bed at home is much more comfortable," this time her tone was softer, more cajoling. She was silent a moment.

"You're carrying me, Lark, I can't move," she replied at last. The girl crouched in front of her, and she climbed onto her back.

As they hit to cool night air, Larxene commented softly,

"I'm glad tonight you don't have to spend your time in the company of creepy old bums and the cops and their coffee, out of your stubbornness to not leave me..."

Naminé 'hm'd quietly, and added, in a voice stuffy with sleep,

"S'causes'luv youuuu..." and her eyes slid the rest of the way shut again. Larxene smiled slightly to herself.

* * *

Author Note: Fluff! Yay! I have nothing much to say about this, except that I really like the way "Cop and their coffee" sounds. Leave a review (pretty please with a cherry on top)?


	9. HOSPITAL

009. **Hospital**

Its not like the terrain was unfamiliar, after all they knew the location of every single vending machine, because the peanut M&Ms went fast (it must be the cheerful yellow wrappers).

Larxene would give Naminé a ride whenever one of Cloud's sparring sessions with his over-comptetitive peer would end sooner than expected due to an overzealous thrust, or swipe. They would wait patiently and then Larxene would drive everyone home.

Except this time it was different.

Naminé's pale skin looked grey under the florescent lights, and she fiddled with the hem of her dress nervously. Larxene glared at the wall of the ICU. This time the sword had gone through Cloud's shoulder, and Sephiroth had simply left him there. It was pure chance that Naminé had decided she wanted to see them spar some and had made her drive over early.

Larxene was positive she'd never forget the look on the younger girl's face when she walked into the room. It looked like a shellshocked soldier hearing bombs again. Even she felt nauseous at the sight of the strong man, his face an almost ashen grey, and the air around him tasting like blood.

Larxene wrapped an arm around the girl, bringing her head to rest on her shoulder. She had no words, but hoped that the feeling of her hand curling around Naminé's small shoulder would be enough to say everything she meant.

* * *

Author Note:Me? Ripping off Advent Children? Never! _Oh wait..._ In case you haven't read my other story "Countdown" (shameless plug: you totally should :I), Cloud is Naminé's older brother in my AU's. (Again, Countdown has nothing to do with these vignettes, just as they have nothing to do with each other, but I like keep my personal alt. universe nice and consistent in the area of the characters' pasts and familial relations. It gives me a chance to explore the limits of the characters and their situations to my hearts content. Hope you all don't mind.) Uhm. Babbling aside, hope you liked it.


	10. SICKNESS

010. **Sickness**

She was sick. Sick, sick, sick. No wonder her mother didn't even want to look at her anymore. No wonder the eyes of the girls at school went cold when they saw her, and they spoke poison words about her behind cruel smiles, and perfectly manicured hands. No wonder the boys leered at her as they passed. She squared her shoulders and sneered at the looks. But when her mother screamed at her, and slapped her across the face, she kept her head down and ran to her cousin the first chance she got.

Many months later, when her mother had abandoned speaking to her completely, she met a delicate blond girl in the coffee shop down the street. She was dressed in an entirely washed out palette, and her fingers stood out, because they were covered in color from acrylic paints.

Larxene didn't say anything as she sat down across from her, at her table by the window. They were silent the entire time, and their only interaction was a small smile, when the girl got up and left. When she was clearing the table, she found a napkin that simply said:

_Naminé's Cell #: 342-1823_.

She pocketed it as she left.

Three phone calls, five plans, one walk in the park, two movies and a dinner later, found Larxene and Naminé in a lip lock in front of younger blond's door. The older of the two marveled in the comfortable feeling of something long over due.

Maybe, despite her mother's impending wrath, this was a sickness she could get used to.

* * *

Author Note: Guh, this one isn't happy either... Poor Lark, I give her such a hard time... But she wouldn't be the sarcastic, angry woman we all know and love if her experiences had been all rainbows and sunshine, right? Right? (Excuses, excuses...) Anyway, sorry to have reality intrude upon fantasy, I've a friend who live in fear of this reaction. Leave me a review and I'll try to make the one after next happier (I have resorted to bribery).


	11. BLUE

011. **Blue**

She would wake up to rain. The grey daylight not enough to really rouse anyone past half-consciousness. The drops sluicing down the windows would remind her of the feel of them sliding down her scalp, the sick, disturbing feeling of is sliding between her hair to run down her forehead or behind her ears. As the days past cliché metaphors became quickly obsolete, tears were not an adequate illustration for the slow deluge.

Everything had become weighed down with the weight of the rain. People became bowed, like the branches overhanging the sidewalks which now aimed to brush the concrete rather than stretching for the skies.

She began leaving the umbrella at home, because what difference did it make if her head remained dry or not? The chill and the damp couldn't be chased away by the presence of a piece of cloth stretched over her head. She had already tried with her bed-sheet to no effect.

Driving to the train station, she watched the lazy _swish _beat _swish_ beat _swish_ of the wipers across the windshield. Inside the clack of feet, steady murmur of voices and swirls of bodies distracted from the drumming of the rain on the roof.

When the slight body of the girl that had been missing from her side came out and they had their arms wrapped around each other for a minute, two, three, and walked hand in hand.

Outside, a little sliver of blue sky greeted them.

* * *

Author Note: This is the last of the pre-written ones. (I wanted to move away from eyes, cause that seemed the far-too-obvious course of action. Also, its been wretchedly damp where I am, and I am so. Very. Sick. And. Tired. Of it.) Tell me what you thought of this one, the others, or what you think I should do with the next one: _Red_. Really, I'd love to hear from you. *Have a nice day.


	12. RED

012. **Red**

When Cloud first sits Naminé down and very calmly (as always, she thinks) asks her who exactly is this Larxene, and what are their intentions towards each other, Naminé finds herself flushing as she starts stammering an answer.

When her cousin Roxas comes with her to the brunch she and Larxene had planned a week before, and sits down across from her and stares at her hard, saying nothing for 3 minutes; she goes pale. When Larxene squints back at him and says with sudden glee, "You're that kid that Axel has the hots for!" Both she and he are red in the face, him from indignant spluttering and her from laughter.

When she first finds herself standing naked before Larxene, embarrassment again colors her cheeks, but its quickly overcome by a different kind of flush.

The first time Larxene sees the young blond, she feels a thrill and a sharp spike of heat runs through her, and she's sure her face is flushed with the sudden increase of temperature.

When, in the heat of argument, Axel suddenly implies that her intentions towards the younger girl are less then honorable and far from pure, she finds herself angry in a way she's never been before and her skin matches his hair and she hits him, _hard_, and leaves him there. Later she's still trying to understand why that hurt so much, anyway.

When she asks Naminé, over dinner, trying to play it casual, make it offhand, if she'd like to move in with her, she knows she's failed. Her cheeks are burning, and her chest is tight as the silence stretches between them. She opens her mouth to start forming an excuse, and suddenly finds herself being smothered under another body. Naminé's face, as it happens, matches hers in color, and her happiness is equally contagious.

* * *

Author Note: Gah. What's with all this fluff? Anyway. Nothing much to say. Again, trying to go for the unconventional, so I tried to stay away from "blood", "roses" and that kind of thing. Then again, I don't read much of this kind of list-fic, so tell me if I'm giving myself false airs by thinking I'm original. c:


	13. BLACK

013. **Black**

Naminé's so sweet and kind all the time that on more than one occasion someone has, sneeringly, asked if she consumes sugar to keep up that demeanor. Larxene herself will admit to having asked such a question.

Larxene, with her angry bitterness, has been told she much live on lemons and old, cold coffee.

Of course, early in the morning, when they've just woken up, after the obligatory cuddling of sunday mornings. They head out to the coffee shop down the street to meet up with their friends. They all indulge in pastries, of course.

Larxene, with a cranberry scone.

Naminé with a lemon cake.

Axel with a cinnamon bun.

Roxas with a petit pain au chocoloat.

From out of town, if Marluxia and Vexen, or Demyx, join them. A chocolate chip cookie, a pecan sticky bun, and slice of toast with marmalade will be added to the order.

But the black coffee and hot chocolate always go to Naminé and Larxene... respectively.

* * *

Author Note: Sorry for not uploading in so long! I was just stuck on what to do for this one... (I realize my inconsistency... Lark does drink coffee, normally. I just wanted a). something different then usual, and b). I think she secretly sweetens hers anyway. Her bitterness is different. :I  
Anyway, as usual, tell me what you thought! Have a lovely day, and come back for the next one: _WHITE_.


	14. WHITE

014. **White**

Larxene isn't thinking. The glittering, pale-- reflected light stretches infinitely around her. As she stares at an untouched snowbank to her left, the world seems almost like its spinning, gravity too much to resist and she falls, face first into the cold. She rolls onto her back, to look up at the sky, a uniform grey, the same inexplicable pull calling to her, but her limbs are heavy and overheated, while her fingers and toes continue towards numb in the exceedingly cold temperatures.

She's pulling herself up, forcing herself to be at least _semi_ vertical, when she sees it. A small pale figure with an army green coat wrapped tightly around it. All she thinks is that surely someone whose wrists look that chapped in the cold should be wearing something warmer, and what a pretty colour the blond hair is against the freezing, empty, snowy field.

She's sitting on the same hill, the snow has melted, but the chill hasn't left the air. She's wrapped in her long black jacket, and the scarf she stole from Axel wrapped around her neck. She can tell it doesn't quite smell of him, and it makes her scowl firmly over the top where her eyes peek out. She likes the cold, but they're predicting snow again next week, and its April and she's had enough already. Looking across the playing field (she always knew it, but it was so much more romantic in its winter disguise) and sees a figure that strikes some familiarity, the small frame hunched against the wind, and army green jacket. Surely someone whose wrists look that chapped in the cold (an energetic, bright rosy color, against pale skin) should be wearing something warmer in this kind of weather? The inexplicable sense of déjà vu, is irksome, and she looks away.

The heat is sweltering. Her t-shirt sticks to her in an utterly uncomfortable manner, as she's puddled on the hill. She left the sidewalk, because the shimmering of the asphalt made her uncomfortable and angry. She stares at the track, probably sticky in the sun, and reflects on how much she doesn't enjoy mid-August. She thinks of how much rain they've had, and how she wishes the wetness wouldn't linger in the air after the drops have fallen. As she's looking out across the greenery, attempting to ignore the garish orange lines marring its perfect stretch wilted vegetation, she catches sight of something that niggles her. The sundress is unfamiliar, she tends not to know people who wear that much white (as in, any at all) but something about the way the blond hair seems to pale against the trees behind it makes her scowl, thinking that its not quite right. However her phone beeps at her, and she has to look away to answer it, and before she knows it, plans have been made and she's no longer at the field anyway, so it can't have been that important.

The leaves are falling, and its been raining and its damp, which makes the grass unappealing as a sitting place. She finds herself standing on the track (idly, she wonders why it is that no one ever seems to _use_ the damn thing, what else is it sitting here for?) She kicks a few leaves and feels mildly disappointed that there's no breeze to whip them around her, so she scowls at them and faces out towards the field. Suddenly someone knocks into her and she turns around ready to cuss them out, only...

Blue eyes look up at her from a pale face, cheeks chapped rosy from the cold, the green army jacket hangs from her small shoulders, her bony wrists stick out and she sees they're also chapped. Blond hair, waves a little from under a dark skull cap, holding it close to her head.

"You look familiar," she finds herself stating, rather than yelling at the girl to mind where the fuck she's going.

"I, well, I walk through here everyday," comes the quiet reply.

"I don't come here often but... oh. Do you always wear that jacket?"

"Uhm, yes? I suppose not during the summer... but..."

"You always look that cold when its not 80º with 70% humidity?"

The girl doesn't reply, but shrugs her shoulders some in response.

The snow is still falling, which makes it hard to see. She knows the track is somewhere under her feet, but the white disguise it currently bears makes it easy to forget. She sees a blond head, with a black cap covering it, and a familiar green jacket making its way towards her. She smiles despite the fact that she can't feel the tip of her nose anymore.

* * *

A/N: Friends! Romans! Countrymen! (I've never even read that play.) Anyway. Sorry its been so long since the last update. Didn't know what to do for this one. (The usual flailing and false starts were needed. And, of course, being on vacation got in the way. So sorry about that.) However. I certainly hope you guys like this installment (and I hope the added length doesn't make the story worse, I tried to extend it to make up for my absence.)  
Also, its been a while since the last disclaimer so:  
_DISCLAIMER:_ 1011100 does **not** own Kingdom Hearts or even have any stocks of Disney or Square Enix (if such a thing is possible...) However, she has momentarily taken the liberty of borrowing their copyright protected toys (too keep them from getting dusty) and promises to put them back in the toy chest with minimal damage when she's finished.  
Hope you enjoy! (_Next time!_ PROMPT: Colours.)


	15. COLORS

015. **Colours**

For a girl who is so insistently pale and innocuous in everything she does, Larxene thinks, Naminé's paintings are certainly something of a shock.

When she first looks at them, she's not always entirely certain what, exactly, it is that she's looking at. Landscapes of trees and fields, could just as easily be men fighting on a battle field. Its certainly a different way of looking at the world, at any rate.

And sometimes, when someone comments on Naminé, saying how quiet and washed-out she appears ('like a watercolor left out in the rain,' was the most poetic, and insulting one Larxene feels she's heard to date) she wishes she could show them Naminé's complete works. Let them see what her fingers look like after she's been in her studio for a week. Paint covering her fingers until she looks as original as her canvas. Ask them what _they_ make of the slathered tableaus, the world entirely remade before them, until it no longer mirrors what they see around them, yet mirrors it perfectly.

And one day, after they've come back from some silly get together, and she's had to hear 14 different people make a comment regarding 'that girl, you know, the pale one in the white dress... a painter? really? but she looks so dull, and... sort of bleached.' She finds herself yelling, and colored with anger. She finds herself telling Naminé all this, and the girl just smiles up at her, an sharp edge of warmth in it that quells all Larxene's simmering rage. And with an air of something nearing insolence replies,

"Now, now, Lark. No need to curse a blue streak, I've always been of the opinion that your language was colorful enough to make up for my wardrobe."

Larxene finds herself resisting the urge to swat her.

* * *

A/N: Oh my. Do pardon the shameless, completely unfunny pun at the end there. I honestly have no idea what I was thinking. (In fact, I may have to go back and re-write every single one of these when I'm finished with the list, because some of them simply have much better ideas that I could attach to them than the ones I have. Or one of you kindly people could find me a different list and I can do it all over again with different words. c: ) Anyway. I feel like I should be with-holding chapter in return for reviews. But that's always struck me as an evil thing to do, so I just want to say, thank you everyone who's added this to their watch list, or their favorites, and special thanks to those of you who have reviewed; it means the world to me.  
Other than that, next one is: FOOD. So. It'll probably take me a while to figure out what to do with it. Much love until next time, 1011100.

(PS: I'm going to go back and re-read all the other ones and correct any grammar/spelling/I-fail-at-proofing mistakes that exist there-in. (If anyone want to beta for me, I'll be eternally grateful. Later, bbz.)


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